


Silver Chains

by adelaide_rain



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5331935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelaide_rain/pseuds/adelaide_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the way to Kirkwall, Fenris is followed by a black wolf. A wolf, it turns out, who is also a man. A man called Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Chains

Fenris travels under a roof of green leaves. For once he has a destination, a _to_ instead of just a _from_. To Kirkwall, to whispered promises of information about his family. He tries to keep his heart hard, but hope slips in despite his efforts. Hope of a mother, a father, a sister or brother. Of someone to give colour to his life, to give him words for himself other than _slave._

The mossy ground is soft under his feet, and the forest is so much more peaceful, so much safer than a city. For a few moments he entertains the idea of lingering here. It's quiet, there are places to shelter, and no humans to look at him with suspicion and hate. There are birds with sweet songs, streams dallying over rocks, the clear water flashing in the sunlight. For a moment he can almost picture staying – but no. He is no Dalish, to hide in the woods and pretend that humanity doesn't exist, to put himself apart from them, above them. He knows the Dalish, spent a month amongst them, and he knows he doesn't belong. 

He is alone, and that is as it should be. 

That is what he tells himself, anyway, even if the lingering hope for _more_ refuses to be doused. 

Not long after that, he notices that he isn't alone. 

There is a wolf following him. 

At first Fenris is wary, keeping his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword, but the wolf seems curious, friendly even. At first it keeps its distance, but as the day goes on it risks getting closer, out of range of Fenris’s blade not much further away than that. It pads after him through the forest for hours, and it might be irritating if Fenris wasn’t so intrigued.

He’s heard of tame wolves before - half-tame, anyway. Is this one of them? He pauses and turns, and the wolf pauses too, panting and looking at him with amber eyes that are bright against the thick, dark fur. It’s huge, bigger than any wolf Fenris has seen before. If it is tame, where is its master? Perhaps it escaped, having found a life of servitude not to its liking.

A smile tugs at Fenris’s lips. Two wolves without masters. Perhaps fate has brought them together.

“Are you planning on following me all day?” Fenris asks, and after a moment the wolf steps closer; another step. They look at each other, and when neither of them make any move to attack, the wolf closes the gap and nudges Fenris’s palm with a warm, wet nose. ”You’re the strangest wolf I’ve ever seen,” he says, and the wolf gives something that looks almost like a smile. Carefully, slowly, Fenris puts a hand to the top of the wolf’s head. The fur is soft beneath his skin, and the wolf closes its eyes in pleasure as Fenris scratches its head lightly.

Close as they are now, Fenris notices a dark metal ring through one of the wolf’s ears, almost like an earring. When he touches it, the wolf whines, and Fenris’s lyrium flares at the touch. Whatever it is, it’s magical, and Fenris’s lip curls in a snarl, as instinctive as the reaction of the lyrium.

“Did your master do this to you?” Fenris asks, and the wolf looks up at him with its too-intelligent eyes. Fenris’s fingers go to the ring, find the clasp, and pause. He has no idea what this trinket does. It might be the thing that is keeping the wolf tame. Still; he hates the idea of magic being used to subjugate any creature. He looks down at the wolf, and makes his decision. He can always ghost the instant the clasp is undone, minimising the danger of any possible attack. He grabs the clasp, unscrews it, and pulls the earring free-

There’s a flash of white light that slams into Fenris and throws him backwards. His lyrium burns blinding-bright, agonising, all-encompassing, stealing breath and thoughts both.

As he lies there on the mossy forest floor gasping, the pain ebbs away, slowly, lingering where the markings cut deepest into his flesh, but he can think again. 

_Wolf._

He ghosts, just in case, gritting his teeth as the pain flares. He looks up-

But the wolf is not there.

There is a human where the wolf was, a man on his hands and knees and breathing hard. Tall, muscular, naked. Messy black hair down to his shoulders, ragged beard. He has dark hair on his chest, his limbs too, but that’s not so unusual for a human. When he looks up, he has the same amber eyes as the wolf. He’s attractive, some part of Fenris’s brain notes, but he pushes the thought aside.

Surging to his feet, he draws his sword, eyes narrowed, and the human watches him and raises his hands to show that he is unarmed and not a threat.

"I suppose I should thank you,” the human says, his voice deep, a little hoarse, perhaps from disuse. Fenris thinks he recognises the accent as Fereldan. He's not Teviniter, Fenris is sure of that, a fact he counts it as a small blessing; but Tevinter or not, he has no reason to trust this human that was disguised as a wolf.

“For?”

“Freeing me, of course."

Fenris narrows his eyes at the man. “You were trapped as a wolf? Why? How?”

With a sigh, the man shrugs and sweeps his hair out his his eyes. “Would you believe me if I said I don't know? The last thing I remember is going to Sundermount to face some renegade mages, and then - this. I barely remember the time I was trapped.”

“Why were you following me?”

The man shrugs again. “I don't know. It felt like the right thing to do.”

Fenris looks at him doubtfully. “Just like that?”

“The world is a lot simpler when you have the shape of an animal. But - ah, now that I'm _not_ an animal - I don't suppose you have any clothes I could borrow?”

“No.”

The man doesn't seem put off in the slightest by Fenris's cold tone, something that usually works. “Or a blanket? Don't get me wrong - being naked is wonderful in the right time and place, but shivering in some strange forest isn't it. I can repay you. I mean - not with money, I don't have much of that, but I can help you. I can fight.”

Fenris pauses then. The man looks strong, and the scars that criss-cross his body tell tales of battles - most of them won, since he's sitting here looking at Fenris and making no attempt at all to hide his impressive body, which Fenris is having trouble looking away from.

“What makes you think I need someone who can fight?”

A smile plays over the man's lips. “The huge sword in your hand is a bit of a clue. If you're a mercenary, I can help you. And if you're in trouble, I _want_ to help you.”

“Why?”

“You helped me. It's only fair.”

There's something more, something the man isn't saying, but Fenris decides to let him have his secrets. Maker knows he has enough of his own, most of which he doesn't know himself.

“You can fight?”

The man nods. “I prefer sword and shield if we can get them.”

As wary as Fenris is of this human, he can't deny that it would be nice to have someone at his back. There are always hunters close behind him, and he's so tired of fighting them alone, of barely sleeping for fear that slavers might be close at hand. And to have someone offer his assistance willingly, instead of for pay – that might make for something like loyalty.

“I have little money,” Fenris says. “I could buy you clothing, perhaps leather armour in the next village if it's cheap, but weaponry isn't in my budget.”

“Then let's hope someone with a spare sword has need of a mercenary.”

Fenris looks down at him, still on the floor, still naked and unarmed and at Fenris's mercy, but he doesn't look afraid and he is at ease. Fenris wonders why; if the situation had been reversed, _at ease_ would be the opposite of Fenris's reaction, and he can't understand it. He guesses that there might be much about this man that he doesn't understand. 

For a moment, doubts circle him like hungry sharks, but then he puts his sword away. The man has offered help freely, and Fenris will take it. He'd only end up spending his meagre coin hiring useless mercenaries in Kirkwall; better to save the money if he can get help for free. If nothing else, he looks strong. Fenris hopes fighting prowess comes along with that strength. 

“Alright,” Fenris says. “I accept your help.”

For now, Fenris loans the man his threadbare blanket, which he pulls into a rough robe with a length of rope.

“Hardly high fashion but it'll do,” the man says with satisfaction and then smiles at Fenris, who tries to ignore the way the effect that smile has on him, pushing down on the urge to return it. “Something else I owe you for.”

“It's a loan. I want it back once you have clothes.”

“If we can get some work, I'll go one better and buy you a new blanket. I'm Hawke, by the way,” he says as he ties his hair back in a short, tidy braid. “From Kirkwall. Well, Ferelden originally, but my family is in Kirkwall and I'd quite like to get back to them. We Hawkes do have a tendency to get into trouble.”

“Evidently,” Fenris says, and ignores the little shiver of happiness when Hawke grins for him. “I'm Fenris.”

“I'm pleased to meet you, Fenris,” Hawke says, his eyes lingering on the bare skin of Fenris's biceps. 

Fenris tries not to sigh at the attention. At least Hawke looks merely curious, rather than gawking at him like a circus attraction like most. “My markings are made of lyrium, scored into my skin by a Tevinter magister.” The words are abrupt, and they're meant to be. All the better to avoid further questions. “I was a slave, but my former master doesn't want to let me go. The men you will fight, should you stay with me, will most likely be slavers.”

“Good,” Hawke says with surprising fierceness. “If it means fighting slavers, I'd go with you even if I didn't owe you a debt.” That fire in his voice – he means what he says. Fenris's eyebrows raise in surprise. It's a rare thing, to find someone who would do such a thing, especially for an escaped slave. He'd been pleased to find that most humans outside of the Imperium disapprove of slavery; less pleased to find that few of them are willing to do anything about it.

“I'm glad to hear it,” Fenris says, and nods. “Come. There should be a village a little further down the road. Let us get there, and see if we can get you some clothes.”

“I don't know,” Hawke says, cocking a hip and grinning. “I rather think I'm making this blanket look good.”

A smile tugs at Fenris's lips, startling him. It has been a long time since he had something to smile about, and he smothers it with a frown. “It will be of little use if we're attacked.”

“Good point,” Hawke says, and gestures for Fenris to lead the way. “Let's get going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Major thanks go to [Dyr0z](http://dyr0z.tumblr.com/) for the inspiration and for being all round lovely :3
> 
> This is part of my fenhawke advent calendar (basically I'll be writing fenhawke fic every day until Christmas) so if you're interested, [check out the tag on my blog!](http://raininginadelaide.tumblr.com/tagged/fenhawke-advent-calendar)


End file.
